If strong and just, and true to trust,
The coin of Truth can never rust;
And wise men see that none are free,
Save where there’s large equality—
Where Law commands, that sturdy hands,
Shall freely cultivate the lands;
No coward slave, but free and brave,
Shall ever ready be to save.
Thus honest worth, o’er all the earth,
Conditions make, e’en more than birth.
’Twas said by Fate, these Isles must wait,
The builders of an ideal State.
Then with the breeze, ’cross Southern seas,
The Briton came, with high decrees.
New scenes arose, old wounds they close,
And friendship reigns ’mong ancient foes.
For Maori hate, by skill and—“fate”—
Was merged into the British “State.”